


meet (not so) cute

by CloudBeets



Category: Tiny Meat Gang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Drugs, Gangs, M/M, Mugging, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, pls dont clown me im doing my best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-03-17 16:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18968914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudBeets/pseuds/CloudBeets
Summary: [ Cody can’t get over his fucking voice. If he wasn’t being robbed and possibly stabbed by this guy, he might even say its a little bit sexy.]inspired by elonfuckmywife's prompt listherespecifically im doing "noel tries to rob cody as some kinda gang initiation" so thats what happens. but then they fall in love.updates might be slow but i want this done eventually





	1. a traumatic experience

**Author's Note:**

> since there have been some new faces in the tag recently i thought should probably put a lil disclamer: cody and noel are real people, this is just a story based on their online personas, please respect their (very cute and loving) relationships and don't harass them, thanks :)

Cody is running late. He’s supposed to be at some stupid business meeting, but fuck business meetings man. They’re boring and nothing is more frustrating than old rich guys trying to understand the interests of younger generations. He needs to be there for his job though, because this awful business meeting is of the make-or-break you type. 

The traffic downtown is horrendous at this time of day. Well, it's awful at any time of day, but especially right now, so he’s walking. In the interest of saving time, Cody checks google maps for a shortcut. Even something small could be the difference between fashionably late and catastrophically late. 

“Oh sweet!” If he cuts down the next alley he can be there in maybe two or three minutes rather than five. A win is a win, right? But before he just walks down some random creepy alley though, he checks it out. Being late is not that bad compared to whatever wack shit goes down in creepy alleys. It looks rather nice actually, decently clean for this part of downtown and Cody hurries down it. 

He’s about halfway down when suddenly there’s an arm around his waist and a hand over his mouth, pulling him backward. Cody gasps and starts kicking his legs, using every bit of his strength to try and get free from whoever’s got him, struggling to at least get them to stop moving. Then he feels something poke against his side. He looks down, and there's a knife. The arm around his stomach is holding a knife. Holy fuck. He’s gonna die. This is it. Stabbed in an alley trying to save two minutes of time. Just his fucking luck. 

The guy stops pulling him back, but Cody keeps kicking and struggling. He contemplates try to bite this guy’s hand, but he doesn’t want to get sick or make him more mad. Whoever’s got Cody pulls his arms tighter, pressing them right up against each other. The guy leans his head down, and Cody can feel his breath against his ear. 

“Scream, or try some shit, and I’ll drown you in your own blood,” he whispers, and holy hell he’s got a deep voice. Damn dude. And drowning him in his own blood? That's a little dramatic. But just a little, ya know. It's definitely not a terrifying thought. 

“Nod if you understand,” the guy says, and Cody thinks he can hear his voice shake a tiny bit, but he’s probably imagining it. God knows Cody’s thoughts are shaking. But he nods, and the guy takes his hand off Cody’s mouth and slides it down to the base of his neck, pressing his elbow on to Cody’s chest. The arm against his stomach shifts and he looks down to see that the tip of the blade is poised right below his ribs. Fuck. 

“Empty your pockets.” Damn. Cody can’t get over his fucking voice. If he wasn’t being robbed and possibly stabbed by this guy, he might even say its a little bit sexy. But being stabbed is not, so he’s mostly scared. Carefully, he slides his hand down into his pocket and grabs his wallet and after a moment of thought, his house key as well. This guy seems pretty serious and he doesn’t want to take any chances.

The man takes his hand off Cody’s throat and holds it out. Cody carefully places his wallet and keys in it, and the guy grabs them. Cody can feel them side into the pocket of the guy's hoodie as they bump against his back. The guy holds his hand out again, and Cody reluctantly pulls his phone out of his other pocket. He places it in the guy’s hand, along with what looks like a few receipts. He slides all that into his hoodie as well, before putting his hand back at Cody’s throat. 

“That all?” The guy asks, and Cody is pretty sure that he head the guy's voice waver for a sec. He’s not really sure what to do with that information though. A scared guy is probably more likely to stab him. He decides not to think about it. 

“Y-yeah.” Now Cody’s voice definitely shakes. He sounds terrified. He doesn’t really feel that scared though. Must be the adrenaline. 

“Remember, don’t fucking try any shit,” the guy says, and suddenly Cody feels a pain in his abdomen. He gasps, and immediately presses his hand to it, feeling a tear in his shirt before the wetness of what he assumes is his own blood. Before he can even comprehend what just happened, the guy lets go of him and shoves him hard. Cody stumbles forward, falling on to his knees and elbows. Shit. That guy’s pretty strong. He tries to roll over onto his side but stops, hissing in pain. He looks down to see a rip in his nice white shirt. But it’s not really nice and white anymore since it's slowly turning red. 

Cody crawls to the side of the alley, wincing the whole way. He leans against the wall, breathing heavy with his hands pressed over the fucking _stab wound _in his side. Fucking hell. He was just robbed. By a guy with a knife. Who then stabbed him. Shit.__

__Cody feels his hands shaking against his stomach and he knows the adrenaline is wearing off. He tries to take slow deep breaths or whatever, but it doesn’t help. He’s starting to feel sick and tense and shaky and a variety of other shitty things and he tries to ground himself but the only thing he can feel is the wetness of his blood on his fingers and its awful. He’s gonna have a fucking panic attack bleeding out in an alley alone and he doesn’t even have his phone. Fuck. He doesn’t have his phone, or his keys, or anything. He’s stuck here with no way to get home._ _

__Cody feels tears pricking in his eyes and he tries to blink them away. He honestly terrified. It’s like everything he didn’t feel before is catching up at once. He’s trying to put pressure on his wound but his whole body is shaking so he’s not sure how well it's working. He’s gasping for breath but the air seems to stick in his throat and he feels lightheaded. But maybe that’s from blood loss. How much do you bleed from a wound like this anyway? Is he gonna bleed out in this fucking alley? Is he gonna be stuck here until someone finds him? No, he can walk, right?_ _

__Cody’s thoughts are racing from one terrifying thought to another, getting worse and worse but he can at least recognize that’s not gonna help. For the sake of doing something productive, he decides to try to stand up. He carefully takes one trembling hand off his side and places it against the wall. It slips because it’s wet and bloody but he manages to get a grip. He takes a shaky breath and tries to pull himself up. Fuck, his side hurts. It’s painful, but he manages to get up. Still leaning against the wall, but standing up! That’s a start._ _

__Cody looks down at his side and his hand is covered in blood, dripping down onto his pants. God, that’s a lot of blood. He shakes his head as the scary thoughts come back. He does his best to breathe slowly and focus on what he needs to do right now. Get home._ _

__Cody doesn’t think the wound is really that deep, and without his phone or wallet, he doesn’t want to go to the hospital. What’s he gonna do? He guesses he looks pretty concerning since he’s, bleeding out, so maybe if he went to like a shop or something, someone would help him? Yeah! That should work. He’ll just go to like, a coffee shop and ask someone to call him an uber so he can go home. Easy!_ _

__Right now, however, Cody’s faced with the difficult task of walking down the alley. Very slowly, he takes his weight off the wall and stands up straight, wincing as his side moves a bit. Instinctively, he presses both hands on it, as if more pressure will make it hurt less. It doesn’t really, but it makes him feel better._ _

__Cody takes a deep breath and just starts walking. His side is throbbing in pain and the feeling of blood dripping through his fingers is disgusting, but he does his best to ignore that. He still feels lightheaded and shaky. If he starts thinking about anything other than walking to the nearest store he’s gonna spiral back into a panic attack. He can save freaking out for when he gets home._ _

__Fucking hell his side hurts. With each step, the pain spikes as his muscles move and it's agonizing. He bites his tongue and feels his eyes watering. Cody just wants this to be fucking over. It’s a struggle, but he manages to reach the end of the alley. He looks around the street, and oh, maybe things are looking up. There’s a coffee shop right on the corner where he is._ _

__He’s tired and still feeling light-headed as he slowly approaches the door, limiting his movement as best he can. Cody grabs the handle to open the door, and for some reason, it’s like the world's heaviest door. He pulls as hard as he can, wincing as a wave of pain flows through his side. It opens eventually and he stumbles into the coffee shop, barely noticing the shocked faces of its inhabitants._ _

__“Oh my god! Sir, are you ok? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” A frantic woman approaches him, her hands floating over his shoulders, not quite touching him._ _

__“I’ll just… can you call me an uber?” Cody says, gasping, “I… I just need to get home.” Another person, an employee it looks like, hurries over with a towel. He gratefully accepts it, shifting his hands so he can press it to his side. The edges of it start to turn red almost immediately, absorbing the blood his shirt couldn’t, but it really doesn’t look too bad. Maybe he’s not bleeding as much than he thought._ _

__“Well, ok. I can call an Uber… are you sure you don’t want an ambulance?” The woman asks him, pulling out her phone._ _

__“Yeah… I,” Cody hesitates for a moment, “can’t afford the hospital.”_ _

__“Ok sir, if that’s what you want.” She fiddles with her phone for a moment before shooing away the crowd of people that have started to gather._ _

__“Why don’t you lie down while you wait?” the employee suggests, helping Cody over to an empty booth._ _

__“For bleeding like that, you really want the injury to be higher than your heart.” Cody nods. He lies back, trying to take deep breaths. He can freak out when he gets home. A few minutes pass and he thinks that maybe the bleeding has slowed down. He glances down at the towel. Now he isn’t usually squeamish, but the towel looks pretty bad and thinking about so much of his blood on the outside of his body rather than the inside makes him feel sick._ _

__“Oh, your uber is here,” the woman says, walking over. Cody reaches his free arm over the side of the bench to pull himself up. He gasps as his side twists and he bites his lip. Fuck, it hurts. The woman offers his hand out to help him, but he shakes his head. Being careful to not move his side anymore then he needs to, he stands up and walks out to the car. The woman follows behind him._ _

__The driver's eyes go wide when he sees Cody. God, he must look awful. Bloody towel at his side, blood all over his hands and pants, tear tracks down his face._ _

__“So, do I need to take you to the hospital or…” The driver asks him, his voice a mix of confusion and concern, as Cody slowly climbs into the car._ _

__“No, I just need to get home.”_ _

__“You sure dude? That looks like a lot of blood.”_ _

__“Yeah, please man, I just want to go home.”_ _

__“Ok... where we headed?” Cody tells him the address of his apartment complex and they’re off. He leans back on the seat, applying as much pressure to his side as he can. He feels like shit. Honestly, being stabbed is miserable. And he doesn’t even have his phone to distract him from the pain._ _

__Cody feels tears welling up in his eyes. What’s he gonna do? What the fuck is he gonna do? He needs to freeze his credit card, get a new phone, have a new house key printed... But first, he needs to deal with this injury. Hopefully, it's not bad enough for stitches. He thinks he might have some... what do you call them? Butterfly stitches? Those thingies you see in crime shows that are like bandages the pull your skin together._ _

__The car is silent as they drive to Cody’s apartment. He does his best to focus on not getting blood on this guys car. Each time it feels like his thoughts are starting to spiral, he thinks _you can freak out at home _over and over like a little mantra. _You can freak out when you get home, you can freak out when you get home _. He looks out the window, mind blank except for the occasional curse as the go over a bump._____ _

______“Alright man, we’re here.” the driver says, stopping the car. Cody blinks zoning back in. He sits up as best he can and carefully take one hand off his side to open the door._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Thanks, dude.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re totally sure you don’t need to go to a hospital or something?” the driver asks, as Cody tenderly climbs out of the car._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah man, I’m sure.” Cody slams the door and starts walking over to the building before the driver can ask him any more questions. He wipes his hand off on his pants so he won’t get blood all over everything. Thankfully no one is in the hallway and he makes it to the elevator before anyone sees him._ _ _ _ _ _

______He reaches his apartment and _thank the fucking lord for his stupidity _. The door is unlocked! He doesn’t need to find someone to go unlock it while he’s bleeding everywhere. Because he’s a dumbass who forgot to lock his door. He pushes it open and hurries in, making sure to lock it behind him.___ _ _ _ _ _

________Cody makes a beeline for the bathroom. He’s only got one free hand, but he manages to grab the first aid kit out of the cabinet and get it open. He pulls out the gauze and a box of butterfly bandages. There’s a washcloth sitting on the side of the sink and with a little difficulty, he manages to get it wet._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He closes the lid of the toilet and sits down. Very slowly, he removes the towel from his side and drops it on the floor. Next up, he takes off his shirt, wincing in pain as it peels away from the wound. Oh, god, it looks gross. Cody grabs the washcloth and slowly wipes it down. He realizes he probably needs to actually clean it with soap or something, he doesn’t want to get an infection._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________After he’s cleaned up most of the blood, Cody can really see what it looks like. It’s only about 3 inches long, but he can’t really tell how deep it is. Hopefully, it's not bad and he’s not gonna fucking die._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The butterfly bandages are bit hard figure out at first, but he gets in eventually and does his best to close the wound. Cody finds the biggest gauze pad he can and tapes that over them. There we go! First Aid! He picks up his shirt, which at this point is completely ruined. Damn. He liked that shirt._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Fuck, bending over like that really hurt. He stands up slowly, wincing as the bandages pull on his skin. He grabs some ibuprofen out of the cabinet and swallows down a few tablets. He washes the blood off his hands, watching as it swirls down the sink. Looking up as he goes to dry his hands, he catches a look at himself in the mirror._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He really does look like shit. Red rimmed eyes, tear tracks on his cheeks, a smear of blood on his chin. He splashes some water on his face. Fuck. Is this the face of an easy target?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cody still doesn’t feel like he’s safe, that he’s able to break down and process what he’s sure must be a traumatic experience. He feels on edge and his throat is tight. So he keeps doing what got him through this mess: focusing on what he needs to do. He decides to start with something to drink and maybe a snack._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He heads to his kitchen and opens up the fridge. He looks around for a moment before he spots a bottle of Gatorade. Some electrolytes might help him, right? He grabs the bottle and downs like half of it. Wow, being stabbed makes you thirsty. Cody laughs to himself. What’s it been? Half an hour? And he’s already making jokes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________What was he even doing to end up in that situation anyway? He needed to take a shortcut to … to get to his business meeting! The very important career dependant meeting! Oh fuck, he needs to email them right away. Being stabbed is a pretty good reason to not be there, but he’d better send the email right away before they make any decisions._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cody starts walking toward his office but stops right outside his bedroom. He should probably get new pants that don’t have blood on them, at least change into something comfy now that he doesn’t need to look nice for a meeting. He heads over to his wardrobe. A wave of pain spikes through him as he bends over to grab a clean pair of sweatpants from the drawer and he bites his lip. Hopefully, the ibuprofen will kick in soon._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He sits down on the bed and starts to tug his pants off when his fingers brush over the mostly dried blood. His blood. Cody heaves as the sick feelings terror and anxiety start to come back. His hands are shaking but he manages to get his pants all the way off before collapsing onto the bed. He curls up as best he can with the pain in his side, hands desperately grabbing at the blanket._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He could have died. That guy stabbed him, what's to say he wouldn’t have just sliced him all the way through. He was scared, he could have done anything._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________And Cody just let it happen, just let that guy take his shit. What kind of fucking weak ass guy does that make him?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cody wishes he could call someone, text someone one, just have someone to talk to about this, to help him sort out his feelings with. But even if he had his phone, there’s no one he could call. No close friends he’d trust with this, no girlfriend and no ex’s that would listen. He stuck here, alone in his room, to think and cry by himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Fuck, it's so twisted and awful that the piece of shit who stabbed him got closer to him than anyone has in a long time. Arms around him and deep voice in his ear. It makes him feel sick. Tears wet his cheeks, and oh, fuck, here we go, all his repressed bullshit is coming back. But he’s so _goddamn _lonely! So fucking alone and he hates it. And he is so fucking mad at the world and himself for getting mugged.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He lays on the bed for a while, curled up feeling dangerously close to hoping the asshole had just finished the job until the tears subside and he thinks he’s stopped shaking enough to do things. Cody gets up, takes a deep breath, and walks out of his room and into his office. He sits down at the computer and cancels his credit cards._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this wasn't much on its own, i promise the good stuff starts in chapter two, which shoud be up very soon! :)


	2. would drugs make it up to you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noel is struggling

Noel pushes his hood back as he walks down the sidewalk. To everyone else, he looks… normal. Unassuming. Racially ambiguous guy walking through downtown in a hoodie. Well, most normal guys don’t have a knife with some guy’s blood on it. And all of said guy’s shit in their pockets. But Noel wouldn’t call himself “normal.”

Maybe he is. For his part of town, he’s done nothing out of the ordinary. Compared to people he knows, he’s boring. But his part of town isn’t the rest of the world, so he does his best not to stand out. 

He walks a little farther and then through an alley. One, two… and there. Noel knocks on the third door down. It opens just a crack, revealing a rather intimidating man’s face. He raises an eyebrow. Noel pulls his hand out of his pocket to make the elaborate sign, and the man opens the door all the way to let him in. He steps through and the man closes the door behind him. 

“How’d it go, shortstack?” the man says, slapping Noel on the back. “Think you’re one of us now?” Noel jerks his shoulder away from him. 

“It was fine Jax. Easy shit,” Noel replies, looking around the bar to find Dion. At least, it was a bar at one point in time. Now it’s kind of gone to shit. They still “open” a few times a week, but the original entrance is boarded up so you can only get in if you know where the back entrance is. 

Noel spots Dion sitting in the back and starts weaving through the room over to him. A few guys catch his eye and they all give him the same knowing look. It’s not supportive, but it doesn’t look particularly… bad either. Noel’s hands are trembling a bit, and he’s thankful that he kept them in his pockets. He’s not about to look like a pussy now.

Noel steps up to the table Dion’s sitting at. He pulls the knife out of his pocket and tosses it down in front of him. Dion pauses mid-conversation. He looks at the knife. He looks at Noel. 

“So shortstack, you think you passed?” Noel gives a slight nod, not breaking eye contact. Dion gestures to the blood on the knife. 

“Who is it?”

“This bitch-ass white boy. About my height. I just sliced him a bit, scared him” 

“Did you get his shit?” 

“Of course I got his shit.” Noel tosses the wallet and phone onto the table. Dion grabs the wallet and pulls out a driver's license. 

“Cody Kolo-Kolojisk- this bitch gotta key smash for a last name, holy shit!” Dion laughs, “and he looks like a fucking frat boy. Man, how’d ya find this guy?” 

“Well..” Noel starts, but Dion cuts him off. He’s rummaging through the- well, Cody’s wallet, dumping its contents out across the table. 

“I don’t fucking care where you found him, but you better hope you can find him again, shortstack, cause that was just part one of initiation.” Noel tilts his head and squints at Dion. “Now you gotta get his shit back to him. Anyone can scare a kid, you gotta prove you can do more than that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Noel says. What the fuck? Now he’s gotta do some pickpocket shit? That wasn’t part of the plan. 

“Cause I wanted to make sure you could pull off the first part.” 

“Pull off-” This bitch! The audacity! “I’ve known y’all for fucking forever and you didn’t think I could do that easy shit?” It’s already insulting to make him mug some guy. That’s beginner shit. He’s done it before, just not with these conditions. 

“It doesn’t fucking matter how long you’ve known us, I gotta give every initiate the same treatment. Don’t want anyone to think I’m playing favorites, do I?”

“No, you don’t,” Noel snaps. He scoops up the contents of Cody’s wallet, his phone, and the knife and puts them back in the pocket of his hoodie... This whole deal is bullshit. He should already be a member, he’s been running with them for years. Hell, he ran for them as a teenager. Dion shouldn’t need to put him through fucking _initiation_ , he already knows what Noel can do. 

Noel’s almost out the door when he has a thought. 

“How the fuck are you gonna know if I give it back? I could just burn his shit and you wouldn’t know any better,” he shouts back to Dion. 

“Shortstack, I’ll know if your ass is lying.” Well then. Dion’s not someone to fuck with. Noel isn’t trying to get jumped. 

He makes his way out of the alley, and then a few more blocks straight across the city. He cuts a few corners, mixing up his path a little. Noel likes to go a slightly different way each time he goes home, just to be safe. It’s just paranoia, but it makes him feel better. He knows a lot of people with enemies. He needs to be prepared for when he makes his own. 

God, Noel is pissed. If he knew he needed to give the guy’s stuff back, he would have done it totally different. He would have picked a different target, in a different part of own. A regular, someone easy to find. Fuck Dion for keeping him in the dark about the whole ‘task.’ Even if he can’t be playing favorites, was it really too much to tell him about the getting-it-back-to-the-person part? Really?

By this point, Noel’s reached his apartment. He fishes his key out of his jeans pocket and opens the door. Home sweet home. Well, he doesn’t think this shitty little one bedroom apartment could really be considered sweet, but it’s home nonetheless. It’s a bit dark and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ever to get it all the way clean, but it’s his. Paid for with his own fucking money, that he worked his ass off for.

Noel dumps Cody’s shit onto his desk and steps into the kitchen. He pulls the knife out of his pocket, before rolling up his sleeves and turning on the sink. Cleaning his knives has always been important to him. Most guys just wipe the blood off and call it a day, and Noel knows that if his homies knew that he cleans knives with such care they’d clown him for it forever. But for him, it’s the best way to decompress. 

It’s times like these that Noel takes the most care. Gently wiping his knife down with a washcloth, being sure to get off every bit of dirt and blood. Because it's not just some fucking gangsters blood, it’s someone innocent. For as much as he’s tried, for as much as he likes to say that his life has made him cold and uncaring, he can’t quite get over the guilt that comes with hurting a person who doesn’t live their life knowing the inevitability of bleeding out in an alley alone.

He’s not supposed to feel bad. That’s just the way shit it is. He learned this a long time ago. Some fool gets in the way, that’s their problem. So Noel bottles that shit up. He pushes it down with drugs and gently cleaning his knives and he doesn’t think about it. He’s not a pussy, alright, he's not fucking soft. He dries off the knife and that’s the end of it. 

Now, he’s gotta figure out who this Cody keysmash dude is. Noel sits down at his desk and grabs Cody’s wallet. He pulls out the driver's license before poking through the rest of shit in it. There’s not much good stuff. Some credit cards Cody’s probably already canceled, a few of those “get a free meal” punch cards for various restaurants, a gym membership card. There is about a hundred dollars in it though, which he snatches. 

Cody’s phone is locked of course, but Noel looks through the notifications to see if there’s anything interesting. There isn’t. Just what looks like business emails and a “rate your visit” from google maps. Useless. He turns the ringer on so he’ll know if anything else pops up. 

Now, to Google. A search of Cody’s full name brings up some useful things. Noel checks out his LinkedIn first. Looks like he’s a programmer, an app developer or some shit. Interesting. He’s a fucking nerd. Twitter doesn’t provide anything helpful. Cody’s some rich white boy who does drugs and thinks he’s really fucking funny. Which he is decidedly not. Noel doubts that Instagram will be much help either, but he checks anyway. 

Goddamn, Cody really is a frat boy. His Instagram is full of pictures of food, travel and awful frat boy faces. This fool really thinks he’s hot. And well... maybe, Noel could see how, objectively, a girl might be inclined to think that. His eyes linger on Cody a bit longer than he’d like to admit. It’s just that, well, he’s got some muscle, and his hair is just a little bit sexy- Noel closes the tab. 

Facebook. He’s gonna check Cody’s Facebook and see if he can learn anything there. He’s a little surprised to find that there some useful shit. Cody lives in the city, on the outer edge of one of the nicer parts. He’s also single. Cody isn’t active on Facebook, which makes sense because no one fucking uses that website anymore, but Noel clicks through his page anyway. More white rich frat boy shit. Something he does note, however, is that most of the friends he looked close with live pretty far away. 

Well, he knows a bit more about his mark, but really nothing that's gonna help him find him. As Noel contemplates exactly where to look next, Cody’s phone vibrates. Noel looks over, and it’s an email notification from what looks like a locksmith. He reads through the bit of the email he can see in the notif, and here we fucking go. Cody’s gonna go to the locksmith around 11 tomorrow. 

This is perfect! Noel can just fucking hang around the locksmith ‘till Cody shows up and slip him his shit. Easy. Dion thought this was gonna be a challenge, but Noel’s already done the hard part! 

 

The next morning, Noel figures out the specifics of his plan as he walks through downtown. It's a long way, so he’s got plenty of time to perfect it. He’s dressed to blend in: jeans, a plain tee-shirt (in a color even), vans. He’s going to hang out in the coffee shop across the street. He'll watch for Cody to go into the locksmith, and note which direction he comes from. Then, Noel is gonna hang out around the area, and slip his stuff back when he leaves. 

Noel arrives at the coffee shop right on time, at 10:55. He orders a coffee (a caramel macchiato) and sits down at a window table to watch. He’s gonna do this so well, Dion won’t be able to believe it. Pull this shit off so fucking smooth that Dion will regret doubting him. As he should. This isn’t his first fucking rodeo, he knows what he’s doing when he corners someone in an alley. 

Noel’s thoughts are interrupted when he catches sight of Cody’s atrocious blonde hair entering the locksmith. Perfect. He waits about a minute so he can finish his coffee before heading across the street. It looked like Cody had come from the left, so that’s where Noel hangs out. He pretends to be on his phone, watching for Cody out of the corner of his eye. 

Surprisingly, it hasn't even been 10 minutes when Cody walks out of the locksmith, looking tense and in a hurry. He heads down the sidewalk in Noel's direction, clearly very distracted. Noel mentally pats himself on the back. This is exactly to plan. He slides his phone into his pocket as Cody approaches him and weaves his way into the mass of people after him. 

Noel has his fingers hovering over Cody back pocket, wallet and phone tucked in his palm when some _stupid motherfucker_ bumps into him. Instinctively, Noel clenches his hand around Cody’s shit as he stumbles into the blonde bitch. Shit shit shit. This just got a whole lot harder. Cody takes a step back and turns to look at Noel. He can see the moment Cody recognizes his phone and wallet: his mouth drops open and his eyes go wide, staring at Noel. 

“Where… is that…?” Cody stutters, shaking his head. Noel grabs Cody’s arm with his free hand, pulling him out of the middle of the sidewalk and into a gap between the buildings. Cody’s very clearly confused but he lets himself be dragged along without a struggle, which Noel is thankful for. 

“Yeah, man,” Noel holds out Cody’s stuff, “here’s your shit.” Cody stares blankly at him for a moment, but eventually, he extends his hand. His fingers brush Noel’s and he grabs his things, and Noel can feel them shaking ever so slightly. He looks rather tense as he slides them into his pocket, and his other hand is pressed against his side. 

“How’d… how’d you get…” Cody’s eyes narrow, studying Noel. Cody gasps, suddenly backing away from Noel, a shaking hand pointed at him. 

“Are you… You’re the _asshole_ who fucking stabbed me! What the fuck! What the fuck man?” Cody’s got his back pressed against the wall, as far away from Noel as he can get in the small space. 

“Hey, man, look, ok I didn’t want-” Noel raises his hands and steps back, He doesn’t need or want to hurt Cody and he doesn’t want Cody to get that idea.

“You fucking did though, -holy shit! I can’t believe- You stabbed me!” Cody’s stumbling over his words, breathing shakily. He pauses for a moment, then steps forward. 

“You fucking stabbed me you _piece of shit_! I was fucking bleeding out in an alley! _You fucking bitch_! I thought I was gonna die! And for what? You’re fucking giving me back the stuff you stole! I feel like fucking shit! Why me? Why the fuck did you pick me? I didn’t fucking do anything to you-you _asshole_!” Cody stares at Noel, and clasps a hand over his mouth as if he can’t believe said all that to… someone like Noel. Goddamn, Cody’s pissed. Noel shouldn’t be surprised though, what did he expect? 

“Hey, hey, man, I’m sorry, alright. I didn’t think I was gonna… that we would meet like this” Noel starts to reply, doing his best to smooth things over. Normally, he’d be all bravado, “too bad bitch,” but he feels the need to explain himself. He’s certainly never apologized for any of the shit he’s done. 

It probably has something to do with Cody being there in front of him, so clearly in pain. Cody’s leaning against the wall, hands pressed tight to his side. His angry glower is ruined by his shaky attempt to breathe slowly. Noel’s never seen this part. It’s rather unsettling, and he’s not really about it. 

“You were just..” He looked easy. He didn’t have lots of stuff with him. “... in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Cody narrows his eyes at him and opens his mouth to say something. 

“Did-”

Noel can’t stay. He’s gonna try to explain his shit to Cody, and he can’t fucking do that. He doesn’t explain himself to anyone, and this fool isn’t gonna change that. He’s not. And he certainly can’t if Noel’s not there to listen to him. 

He walks out onto the sidewalk and weaves through the people, hoping he’s lost in the crowd. He takes the long way back home going far out of his way and doubling back. He can’t take the chance that someone overheard Cody and him talking or one of his “friends” was watching. The chances are slim, but Noel's rather walk a little farther than be found. 

Finally, he’s gotten back to his apartment. He tosses his phone on to the sofa and plops down after it, lighting a blunt. God, seeing Cody was weird. He thought it was gonna be simple: drop the shit and head back to rub it in Dion’s face. Normal shit. Shit you don’t have to think about. Shit that wasn’t gonna make him feel things. 

Not that he does. You don’t feel bad about what you do. Guilt is a liability. You can’t feel regret shit in the moment, that’s how you get killed. But… Cody was innocent. Is innocent. He didn’t sign up for this, he didn’t grow up learning how to not feel bad for doing bad shit. But Noel’s homies won’t see that. Dion won’t see that. Weakness is weakness. 

The weed’s slowing down Noel’s thoughts just enough and he’s able to process the whole mess. He really shouldn’t be fucking lying to himself, it just makes it easier to tell he’s hiding something. He… feels shitty about what he did to Cody. He does. Noel knows he shouldn’t but he does. And he needs to get over this… this guilt shit as quick as he can. If he’s acting even a little soft, Dion will know. 

Noel’s lost in a tangle of thoughts about the right path to ‘move on’ when a light beam hits his sofa just right and something metal stuck between the cushions shines. He reaches over and grabs it. It's a key. More specifically, it’s Cody’s house key. Oh. He probably should have returned that. It’s too bad Noel doesn’t know where Cody lives, because otherwise, the key is now useless. 

Wait. Noel grabs his phone and starts scrolling through his contacts. Doesn’t he know some fucking.., stalker guy? He has a vague memory of talking to some dude who said he could ‘find anyone’ at the bar a while back. Yeah, he does know a guy! “Rascal (hacker)” is the contact name, which seems familiar enough. Noel shoots him a text.

_Noel: hey man, can you help me find someone?_

If Noel does manage to figure out where Cody lives, what is he even gonna do? How do you apologize for stabbing someone? When someone gets hurt or sick, you give them food, right? Noel has some distant memories of his mom bringing friends casseroles and pies and shit when they were hurt. Buts he’s not gonna fucking cook for someone he doesn't know. He can actually cook quite well, but that's not something anyone needs to know. 

Noel’s phone vibrates.

_Rascal: sure man, but it’ll cost you_  
Noel: thats fine  
Rascal: alright, who do ya wanna find  
Noel: cody kolodzjejzyk  
Rascal: the fuck kinda keysmash ass last name is that  
Noel: just fucking tell me where he lives man 

With that taken care of, Noel continues to think over the proper course of action for dealing with the “Cody situation’ as he’s now dubbed it. The point of making food is to help make a person’s life easier, right? There are probably other things he could give him with the same intention of being helpful. God knows Noel has all kinds of random shit in his apartment.

He gets up from the sofa and makes his way to his kitchen. Noel digs through the pack of his cabinet and drawers, looking for anything good. It's mostly shit, expired chips and piles of dust, just junk. Wait. Maybe this is useful. Noel pulls a plastic bag of round white pills out from behind a box of macaroni. There's a label from a bottle in it, and Noel pulls it out to read it. They’re percocets- _painkillers_! That’s- basically perfect. 

At this moment, Noel’s piece of shit brain decides he needs to remember Cody in the alley, leaning against the wall, breathing heaving, his anger barely overshadowing the pain in his eyes, his stance, his whole body. Noel knows what pain looks like (he’s seen some shit). But something about Cody is different. He shakes his head. He really shouldn’t be thinking about it that much. It's just business. 

Even if it is just business, giving Cody only drugs seems like a bit of a cop-out. He can do better than that. And absolving guilt requires sacrifices. Or something like that. Not that Noel would know. He wracks his brain to think of what could be on that line between seeming like you care and actually doing something meaningful, when his eyes stop on the _unopened_ container of mini peanut butter cups sitting on his counter. Trader Joe’s mini peanut butter cups to be specific. 

Candy is a good gift, right? Everyone likes candy. And, Noel really wanted to eat them. He’s making a sacrifice because it’s an inconvenience to go buy more and hope that no one sees him, a hard-ass gangster, at Trader Joe’s. He picks them up and puts them on his desk with the painkillers. Now all he’s got to do is wait for Rascal to get back to him with the address. 

A few hours, several blunts and a box of macaroni later Noel’s phone lights up with a text. 

_Rascal: why the fuck you need to find this white boy_  
Noel: none of your business  
Rascal: ok man chill  
Rascal: ill stop by the bar soon   
Rascal: you can pay me then  
Noel: just tell me his address 

Now that he knows where he’s going, Noel just needs to pick a time. He’ll definitely want to go pretty late, but not so late that there would be no one hanging around town. Because Cody’s injured he’ll probably be going to sleep pretty early, so maybe midnight would work. Yeah, midnight. Plenty of people are still up and around town at midnight. 

Waiting those few more hours is a bit of a struggle. Noel’s restless, mind jumping from topic to topic. From Cody, to planning how he’s gonna pull this shit off, to convincing himself doing this is the right thing. It’s not right that he cares so much, and yet he hasn’t even considered the possibility that he could just… not go. 

Finally, the time rolls around and Noel Put the peanut butter cups and painkillers in a bag before tucking in the pocket of his hoodie. He grabs Cody’s key and locks his door behind him as he heads out. Noel walks a bit until he reaches a slightly nicer part of town before calling an Uber to take him to Cody’s apartment complex. It's just a little too far away to be walking to this late at night. 

His uber driver is annoyingly perky, trying way too hard to start up a conversation. Noel’s one-word answers shut him down pretty quick, but it puts Noel in an uncomfortable, anxious mood. Maybe doing this isn’t the best idea. He shakes his head, as if that will help him clear his mind. It's too late to back out now. No point in doubting himself if he’s gonna fucking do it anyway. 

Finally, he reaches his destination. Noel stands outside the building for a moment, psyching himself up. It's not like he hasn’t fucking snuck into places he shouldn't’ be before, but this is a very different context. Noel thinks he probably looks a little too tense as he walks through the building to Cody’s apartment, however, no one notices or at least, no one cares. 

Noel waits outside Cody’s door for a bit, listening. Thankfully, he doesn’t hear anything, and as a bonus, there's no one in the hall to notice some weird guy just standing at someone's door. With the utmost care, Noel unlocks the door. Slowly, he opens it and steps into Cody’s apartment. The lights aren’t on, which is a good sign. He pulls the bag out of his hoodie and sets it on Cody’s side table. He looks at it for a moment before pulling a pen out of his back pocket and writing a note on the back of what looks to be junk mail. 

This whole guilt thing dealt with, Noel carefully closes the door behind him and heads out. That night, he dreams of happier times for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now i am a white girl from the suburbs so i did my best with this, but if you have tips/advice/corrections let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> so there's that! 
> 
> bully me on tumblr @morelikesugarbi


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